


I Wanna Be In The Room Where It Happens (Nevada Ramirez)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Nevada Ramirez - Fandom, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Gen, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: requested by anonymous:But like can I get some Nevada smut in my life? Like some dancing at the club takes you to the back room to show you who’s boss doesn’t care who hears smutword count: 544warnings: sex, public sex





	

You hand was on the man’s shoulder, but it was purely to get a free drink. Nevada had been ignoring you all night and you never paid for drinks- you didn’t want to start just because Nevada decided to make a deal. You wanted to get drunk, to go home without Nevada, and collapse in his bed.

You weren’t going to get your free drink. You knew you weren’t getting your drink when a hand slipped around your hip and popped the button on your incredibly tight jeans, hand slipping into your pants to push a middle finger against you. You knew who it was because of the smell of the chest pushed against your back, the voice that rumbled a threat to the man who scampered away.

With Nevada’s hands still in your pants you turned and pouted, wrapping your arms around Nevada’s neck, “Come on, Vada, the lil’ chico was gonna buy me a drink.” Nevada shoved you up against the bar and wound two fingers past your panties to push into you as he nipped at the top of your ear.

“Ain’t nobody buyin’ you a drink but me,” He growled, other hand pushed against the bar to hold his weight, “Ain’t nobody touchin’ you but me. You ain’t sayin’ nobodies name but mine, you understand?” A flush on your face as Nevada worked you over, purposely not kissing you. You came, once, pressed against the bar before Nevada removed his hand, not bothering to clean it off, and he laced his fingers with yours. As you heaved breath into your chest you felt yourself ready for a round two, aroused by pushing through the crowd with Nevada’s slicked fingers laced with yours paving the way.

Finally Nevada found what he was looking for: a couch surrounded by a gaggle of his men with women in their laps. Nobody would notice, or so you thought. Nevada threw you down, not caring that you were pressed up against a couple making out, and then he went straight to work on you, prying your legs open, unbuttoning his pants.

Without thinking about it you let him in, groaning as his dick slid inside of you and he took you on the couch, in front of his men, in front of your friends, in front of business men. And you loved it, you loved the way his hips pressed you down and the way you were still fully dressed and you loved the sounds Nevada was making above you, the animalistic way he was gripping your shoulder and holding your hip and the way he was quickly coming undone. He was calling your name, praying under his breath, and when he came you came, holding onto his shoulder, his back, gasping into his neck, calling his name.

When he pulled out and buttoned up your pants you sighed and sat up, not even turning to apologize to the couple behind you, instead pulling yourself up to Nevada, kissing him passionately as he packed himself back into his pants and zipped them up. “I’m only yours, Nevada. Never any of these, chicos, these niños. Yours.” He smirked, in the Nevada way he always smirked, and nodded.

“I know, amor. I just like fuckin’ with you.”


End file.
